


Sharazad's Scheme

by sugarcomatosed



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Folktales, Late Night Conversations, Post-Time Skip, Slow Burn, Story within a Story, Unresolved Romantic Tension, back at it again at krispy kreme
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-01-31 15:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21448681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarcomatosed/pseuds/sugarcomatosed
Summary: A long long time ago...a storyteller casts a charm on a susceptible young maiden,  or rather the year 1185, Claude at Hilda’s bequest spins a few stories, but not without an agenda of his own.
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 11
Kudos: 62





	1. The First Voyage of Sinbad the Sailor.

**Author's Note:**

> The titular Shahrazad is the over arcing narrator of the collection of Middle Eastern Folk tales known as The One Thousand and One Nights, known better to Western audiences as the "Arabian Nights." Her name is also spelt as Scheherazade or Shahrzad. I've chosen this spelling as it looks the most at home in the context of FE.

Perhaps this was a dumb idea.

Hilda pondered this as she poked her head out into the cold drafty hallway. It was empty. There was no one around to admire her in matching dressing gown and silk nightgown. No one to question why she wasn’t trying to sleep and no one to dissuade her from her plans.

This was a harmless idea. Maybe. It was definitely harmless; she’d done this dozens of times when they were students. Maybe not like this exactly, but really. It wouldn’t cause any problems.

Besides, anything would beat trying to count sheep or remember a boring lecture to try and coax herself to bed. Particularly since the alternative was sitting up with him to pass the time.

Harmless. Really.

And so she crept out of her room, tugging her dressing gown closer to her skin to try and stave off the cold of the hallway. Her slippers muffled her footsteps and Hilda tried not to make any noise that might disturb the other people on their floor.

His room wasn’t too far from here, so it was only a short walk. Less time for her to change her mind. She could make out a pool of light under the door. He was still awake then. Hilda inhaled sharply.

She gave the door a light tap.

No response.

Hilda huffed. Really? Had he fallen asleep with his candle still lit? She knocked again. Silence greeted her.

“…Claude, I can see the light on. I know you’re awake.” Hilda half whispered at the closed door. There was the sound of some shuffling from inside and the sound of the door being unlocked.

“…good evening to you,” Claude replied dryly as he opened the door. He paused. Hilda used his silence to give him a once over. Unlike Hilda, he hadn’t dressed for bed yet. She couldn’t say she was exactly disappointed though. He had taken off his jacket and undone the top few buttons of his undershirt. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting company.

“So,” Claude leaned on the doorframe and stared down at Hilda, eyes tracing her silhouette up and down. 

“…do you always show up on men’s doorsteps in the middle of the night dressed like that, or am I special?” He gestured at her outfit. Claude was trying not to grin and failing miserably.

Hilda clasped her hands together so she could dramatically flounce the large bell shaped sleeves she had on her dressing gown.

“Why, you’re special of course!” She cooed with one of her practiced doll faced expressions. And then for good measure she added a prodding remark. “Especially if that’s the answer it takes to get you to let me in out of this drafty hallway.”

“…maybe don’t frolic around a 1,000 year old monastery in a see through dressing gown during the Lone Moon.” Claude suggested as he stepped aside to let her in.  
  
“It’s sheer! Not see through.” Was Hilda’s only reply as she entered with a smug smile.

Claude closed the door behind them and leaned back against it. Hilda peered around, ignoring him for the time being. The faint light she’d seen was coming from a candle on his desk. His chair was pushed back and some papers sat out.

“You were working late again, huh?” She went to go peek at the mess on his desk. It didn’t look like he’d been writing battle plans out. There were a few sheets of paper, one of which that he’d been clearly writing on when she’d knocked. The ink wasn’t quite dry and the script was completely unreadable.

“Sort of.” He said airily. “I was working on my plans for this month’s march up until a bit ago. I’d lost track of time but there was something I wanted to at least start on before the night was up.”

Hilda rifled through the pages. One had some words she could read and then it quickly turned back into something she couldn’t. The words she could read weren’t very helpful. They were one off adjectives and gave her absolutely no clue what he’d been doing before she’d come knocking.

“So what did you come here for? Besides to rifle through my desk.” Claude asked as he joined her. He didn’t seem too bothered by this, probably since he knew she wouldn’t be able to decipher the words.

Hilda shrugged. “Nothing in particular. “ She considered sitting in the desk chair but decided against it. “I noticed you were still up.” She said airily. “So I thought I’d come by.”

Claude gave a small “Ah.” And nodded, he sat back down in his desk chair. He waited. His too clever eyes were looking right through her.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She admitted after a second. “I got in bed and all I could think about was all the work I have to get done tomorrow.” Hilda heaved a sigh. “I don’t know how you or the Professor ever get any sleep, I’m only managing the monastery and I think I’ve lost more sleep in the past few months than I ever did in the whole year when we were here as students. It’s hard work!”

“Almost as hard work as planning a war?” Claude asked idly, he twirled his pen between his fingers. She was about to reluctantly concede to him when a gust of cold air rattled through the room.

“Is your window open?” Hilda squawked. She clasped her arms around herself and shuddered. For some goddess forsaken reason, Claude’s window was in fact propped open, letting in what some would consider a refreshing breeze. Hilda felt like someone had dropped ice down the back of her dress.

“You wouldn’t be cold if you were wearing real pajamas, you’re aware of this, right?” As he said this, Claude leaned back in his chair and used this as an excuse to take another long look at said pajamas.

Hilda tossed one of the many books he had sitting on his bed at him for that remark. (He caught it easily). She freed the comforter from underneath the rest and wrapped herself up, now resembling a cocoon more than a person. Satisfied, she kicked her slippers off and perched herself on the edge of his bed.

“Give me a second, I’ll close it.” Claude laughed slightly and placed the book she had tossed his way on the desk. “I only had it open because the fresh air keeps my head clear when I’m working.”

Hilda snuggled deeper into the blanket she’d claimed. She had no intention of giving it back even if he closed the window. Claude stretched for as he got to his feet. His eyes drifted shut as he moved and he held the pose for a moment before he busied himself with the window. It was impressive how he managed to make something so trivial look elegant. Not that she’d like to admit that anytime soon.

After he finished, Claude returned his attention back to the pages on his desk. The only sounds now were the wind rattling behind the new closed window and the scratch of his pen on paper. Hilda felt a sudden twinge of guilt. Claude didn’t really have private time anymore, and she’d interrupted what little he did have to sit here on his bed and stare him while he did …whatever it was he was doing.

…perhaps it would be better to go back to her own room and go back to tossing and turning in bed. He hadn’t asked her to go yet, so Hilda made herself more comfortable and decided to occupy herself till he was ready to occupy her.

Hilda picked one of the books that littered his bed up and thumbed through the pages to occupy herself for the time being. It was a rather droll text detailing the geography and conditions of the area they were heading to for their march.

She clapped the book shut and looked up hopefully to see if he’d turned around yet. He hadn’t. Hilda sighed, loudly. She tossed herself backwards onto the bed after making sure there wasn’t a book waiting to stab her in the back.

Claude made a faint sound that sounded like a half contained chuckle. Hilda peered up expectantly. Whatever it was that’d amused him, it clearly wasn’t important enough to share as he still wasn’t looking her way.

He had to be difficult.

“What is it you’re working on?” Hilda slid off the bed and back into her slippers. 

She shuffled across the room to peer over his shoulder. Now that she was standing next to him again Hilda realized he was focusing on writing. He was mouthing something to himself as he wrote and didn’t respond right away. His pen danced across the page in smooth unfamiliar strokes, creating another line of unreadable but strangely pretty text. 

Hilda waited for him to answer her but he just started writing another line.

“Did you hear me?”

Claude took a second to respond. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “Sorry, no. What did you say?”

“I asked,” Hilda leaned over his shoulder to get a better look at the paper. “What are you working on?” She rested her head against his. He didn’t protest and leaned back against her in turn.

“…A letter to my parents.“ Claude explained. “I haven’t written in a while with all that’s happened.” He yawned. “I think I’ll call it quits though. My brain’s even more mushy than normal.”

Hilda felt another stab of guilt. She pushed it down and stood up. She regretted standing up, the air was much colder than he was even with the blanket. 

“You should have told me! I’ve got some really nice stationary you could borrow so you’re not sending them a letter on scrap paper!”

He shrugged. “Father won’t notice either way, Mother would probably like that though.” He mused fondly. “Maybe I will.”

Claude leaned back in his seat so he could look at her without turning around. “So!” Claude smiled. “Let me guess…”   
“You said you couldn’t sleep… were you hoping I’d tell you another story to take your mind off everything?”

Hilda beamed. He’d seen through her but for once she didn’t mind; it meant she didn’t have to ask.

“Well! If you’re offering, I won’t say no!” Hilda chirped.A thought crossed her mind and a frown creased her brow.

“…as long as you don’t tell the White Camel Story again, I don’t want to cry myself to sleep.” Hilda planted her hands on her hips, or did so to the best of her ability considering she was still wrapped in the blanket.

“Okay, no White Camels.” Claude agreed. “Get comfortable, I’ve got to think of one…” He sat back up in the chair.

He didn’t need to tell her twice. Hilda settled back into her former place on his bed and tucked her legs up under the blanket. As she got into place Claude turned around so he was sitting on the chair backwards, facing her. He pursed his lips and Hilda waited patiently. 

Claude leaned on the chair’s back and thought. Suddenly, he had a familiar gleam his eyes. It was the same one he always had before he proposed a grand scheme.

“…have you ever heard the story…” Claude began slowly. “Of Sinbad the Sailor?”

Hilda shook her head. “Perfect,” Claude’s lips twitched. “Okay, so…”

Claude’s story started like this.

**Once, in a bustling port town, there was a poor man who made his living by transporting goods. He worked exceedingly hard, even through the sweltering heat.**

“…Unlike some people….who shall remain nameless…this man never asked anyone to take up his burdens for him. ”

Hilda wrinkled her nose at him but her desire to hear the story out weighed her desire to protest.

**One particularly hot and dusty day, the man was hard at work when he was overcome with exhaustion. He felt if he didn’t lay his burden down and rest for a moment in the shade, he may die right on the spot. It so happened he was passing in front of the walls of a wealthy man’s home. So, he laid his burden down and sat for a moment in the shade of the walls.**

**From his spot, he could hear the occupants of the house laughing and chattering, lazing the day away. The man was irritated. He was working hard just to have enough to survive and here were these people who already had more than he could ever hope to. He began to recite a verse.**

**** **"Every day continues to be the same,**  
**For if I do not work it shall bring me shame.**  
  
**Empty pockets bring me no luck,**  
**But those above me can run amuck.**  
  
**Nobles who have all the wealth they need,**  
**While I suffer to help sustain their greed.**  
  
**Under a god’s eye we are no different,**  
**But while they are lords I am the world’s servant."** ****

“…you know, thinking about it. “ Claude mused. “…but Lorenz would do that kind of thing, you know? Stand outside someone’s house and start composing a poem about how unfair life is. I’m pretty sure he has actually.” 

“…he’s gotten better about it at least.” Hilda said after a moment where she struggled to keep herself from laughing.

“Oh he has!” Claude said brightly, with a level of pride that betrayed how actually fond of Lorenz he was. 

**Finally rested enough that he could at least carry on, he picked up his bundle and pushed himself onward.**

**Suddenly a servant was at the gate. “Sir, my master would like for you to come inside.” The young man announced. “Please, step this way.” He tried to protest but the young man seized him by the arm and tugged him into the garden.**

…Hilda was now picturing Cyril grabbing Lorenz by the arm and forcing him to enter a stranger’s garden. …Rhea’s garden…? That…didn’t seem correct. She pushed the thought from her mind and returned her attention to Claude, and the story.

**It was even more opulent than he had pictured, with unfamiliar flowers and lavish statues. There, underneath the shade of an awning was a small party of people. They sat on silk pillows and spread across the ground in front of them was a luxurious spread of food. They were all dressed well, but sitting at the head of the party was a man with the air of a king.**

**“Come, dine with us.” The man smiled luminously at him as if he were an equal and his burden forgot, he sat and ate with the party as if he had always belonged there.**

**They broke bread and ate their fill, as they did so, the regal man spoke again. “Stranger, please tell me your name.”**

**“I am Sinbad, good sir.”**

“…really? that’s Sinbad? I thought he’d be grander.”

“Hey! Show some respect to poor Sinbad.”

**“How fortunate! I shall remember your name with ease, for it is my name as well!”**

“…now that makes more sense…I mean, it’s kind of weird but he’s more what I imagined.”

“I’m never going to get anywhere with this story if you keep interrupting.”

“Okay okay, fine.”

**“I heard you speak your tale of woe at the gate. And I could not help but be moved by your words, for I know how true they are, please. Stay and listen to my tale.”**

**And so Sinbad began his story.**

**“My father was a wealthy merchant, he left me a small fortune when he passed away. I thought of my inheritance like a bottomless well, so I spent it without care on fine food, luxurious clothing, anything my heart desired. Imagine my surprise when I realized that I had nearly reached the bottom of that well.”**

**“I flew about in a panic until I remembered my dear father, who had worked so hard for his wealth. I knew then what I must do. I sold what remained of my fine things and used the money to book passage on a ship and like my father before me, I became a hopeful merchant. I set sail not knowing when or if I would return back to this city I had called home. I only hoped to be half as successful as my father.”**

**“We sailed for a distant port town, and we enjoyed some success, trading and increasing our coin. We set off for our next destination but on the way there we came upon a beautiful uninhabited island. We were all stunned and decided to lay anchor for a few nights to rest our weary heads. A camp was laid, some of our crew began to start up fires to prepare for the night ahead. Others, myself included, walked along the golden shore and thought, truly, this is paradise.”**

**“Suddenly there was a great rumble, and the Captain cried out, for he was still onboard his vessel. He yelled for us all to hurry back, for he had realized what the island truly was.”**

**“It was no island, but a huge sea creature that had fallen asleep for years perhaps, and on its back an island had sprung to life, only to disappear the moment we disturbed the beast with our fires. I failed to reach the ship before the water swept in. One of the trees that had been on this beast came rushing by and it was this tree that saved my life. I clung to it, and was battered and carried off by the waves. For a whole day and night I clung, and as I thought I would never return home I washed upon the beach.”**

**“….I was no longer adrift but I still was not yet home. I had no idea where I was.”**

Claude yawned loudly. “Alright, I think it’s time for bed. I’m exhausted.” He stood up and rubbed his eyes. “Tell it to me straight, I look like a zombie don’t I?”

Hilda sputtered in response.

“Wha- but- what happened next?” Hilda’s fingers loosened their hold on his blankets. She’d been clutching at it while the story unfolded and now she was flabbergasted.

That couldn’t be where it ended?

Claude got up from his seat and pushed the chair in. “You’re getting up with me right? It’s a war council meeting, it’d look bad if we were both late.”

Claude crossed over to her side of the room and before Hilda could react he’d taken her hands in his calloused ones and tugged her to her feet. She stumbled to her feet and into Claude. He was more solid than she’d expected.The blanket fell back onto his bed.

He was unconcerned.Claude steadied her back onto her feet and tossed his arm around her shoulder, guiding her to the doorway. He meant what he’d said, he was done for the night.

“What happened after he got to the island? ” Hilda asked, still not fully processing what had happened. Claude paused.

There was something in the way he only grinned in response that made her cheeks flush.

“Tell you what, if you come back tomorrow night, maybe I’ll tell you what happens next.”

He opened the door and Hilda reluctantly stepped through the doorway.

“Only if you promise to finish it!” Hilda said, sulking. She was suddenly very cross with him. Who stopped a story halfway through?

They were back to their starting positions now; Claude leaning against the doorframe and Hilda standing in the drafty hall.

“Promise.” Claude said, yawning once more. “But for now, I’ve gotta get in bed before I fall asleep standing up. Night, Hilda.”

She murmured her goodnights in response and started to make her way back to her room. The door clicked shut behind her. She climbed into bed after removing her dressing gown and lay there for a moment.

She hadn’t realized how tired she was till then and she almost drifted off right away.

Almost.

It suddenly hit her. She’d been so thrown off by the sudden interruption to the narrative she hadn’t called Claude out on his obvious fib.

Being tired had nothing to do with him stopping halfway through the tale.   
…so what was the reason? He wouldn’t tell her even if he asked, just like no one else could tell her the story’s ending.

Her only chance at an answer was to come back to his room tomorrow night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always start my ClaudeHilda fic notes with a meme, here's today's.
> 
> me: Claude and Hilda? My 3H otp * trips and spills thousands of wips out of my coat pockets* those aren't mine. listen- hold on. i can explain. 
> 
> Okay so. This fic was started almost directly after my first ClaudeHilda fic and then got shelved, rewritten, became multi-chaptered, absorbed two separate other ClaudeHilda fics that were rattling in my brain and now we're here.
> 
> If it wasn't clear, this is inspired by their A and the folktales collected in the The Thousand and One and One Nights! I wanted to include one well known folk tale, and I found Aladdin too well known so that meant it was between Alibaba and Sinbad...and I like Sinbad more just because I have more concrete memories of reading it as a kid. 
> 
> I haven't done a multi-chaptered fic since I was a tween, so basically I've never done one. So please be patient with me this is going to be a little weird for us all. 
> 
> Oh, and much love and affection to AmpersandQueen, who has proof read both academic papers and fanfiction for me now, and Treekianthia who wrote the poem for me because I cannot writing rhyming poetry for the life of me.


	2. The Second Voyage of Sinbad the Sailor

Any good scheme required patience. Claude knew that better than anyone. A poison took time to set in, a pitfall had to be dug…and well, a pretty young woman couldn’t be ensnared overnight.

Claude stared at the pile of books that threatened to consume what remained of his mattress. 

Patience unfortunately had caused this problem. After Hilda’s visit the previous night, he had to concede that maybe, there was a problem. Maybe.

Claude didn’t really think it was a problem, in fact, at this point Claude was pretty sure he would actually sleep worse without the blanket of books that covered his mattress.

Which was why within approximately ten minutes of starting to sort the books into three piles, Claude had buried his face into a book Lorenz had lent him about Dark Magic.

It was considered a forbidden art, and grasping at those kind of spells meant one was either born in darkness, or was dark themselves…

Claude snorted at that. Ah yes, Lysithea: master of darkness. This was probably another Church of Serios sanctioned text and Claude went to throw it off his bed and into its proper pile. He then remembered Lorenz had lent it to him and thought better of it. The next book he grabbed was a book of Seiros teachings and Claude afforded it the respect he felt it deserved: he unceremoniously tossed it into the pile of library books.

Claude quickly went through the next layer of books, placing them into their proper stacks till he arrived at a particularly unpleasant volume on Almyra.

Claude chucked that one at full force at the pile of library books. The book wasn’t done being unpleasant it seemed, as once it collided with its cohorts it destroyed the tottering stack and then took down the other two.

And at that moment, there was a knock on Claude’s door.

“…Shit.” He hissed. He knelt and scrambled to pick the books up. There was a second knock. Claude stood back up, nearly tripped over the small stack he had created and tried to compose himself before he opened the door.

And standing there, in his doorway, waiting patiently was…..

….was the professor.

There was a long silent pause as Claude processed this information.

Byleth was unperturbed and waited for him to gather his bearings. Then, she held out a journal. After a moment he recognized it as his.

“…did I leave this in the Cardinal’s Room?” Claude asked. He hadn’t noticed he was missing it, but he hadn’t sat down to look over his plans since this morning’s war council.

Byleth nodded.

“You really have a knack for lost items, my friend.” Claude took it from her. “Thanks.”

She smiled faintly at him and shrugged, as if it to say it was nothing. She tilted her head after a moment, peering into his room.

“…I was cleaning.” He explained, gesturing with his free hand at the swamp of books spread across his floor.

Byleth stared at him cooly. 

“Who were you expecting?” She said plainly.

Claude cleared his throat. “Ah, no one. I was just, you know… Cleaning.”

She stared at him.

“You’re cute.” Byleth said, with the same sort of fondness she reserved for the various cats and dogs that roamed the monastery. She said nothing more and departed down the hallway.

“..thanks again, teach.” Claude mumbled to himself. “I think I needed the reality check.” He locked the door behind him.

The Professor was right, he was expecting someone. Not just anyone, but…

He groaned. “Just like her to be late.”

Not that it mattered, or that they had agreed upon a time. It was just that he was expecting her, and well. It was a waste of time to clean up if she wasn’t going to come. There was no point in any of it without her.

He buried that thought quickly as he resumed fixing the stacks.

This was all just for fun, a distraction to help him unwind after he’d finished work for the day. If he didn’t do something to take his mind off battle plans and strategy meetings, he was likely to get even less sleep than he did already.

There was nothing more to this than that. So it didn’t matter if she didn’t show up.

At least, that’s what he was telling himself when the sound of someone trying to open his door jarred him back to reality.

“Did you lock your door?!” Hilda’s voice was muffled by the wood. Claude smothered a laugh. She must have assumed he had left it unlocked for her.

“Claude this isn’t funny!” Hilda whined. “Let me in!” She jostled the handle again.

“They say patience is a virtue, Hilda.” He had gotten to his feet now.

Hilda stood there in the hallway, arms crossed, with one of her best pouts fixed into place. 

She looked absolutely adorable, but was dressed as risqué as she had been the night prior. Yet somehow she was wearing a different silk dressing gown and he was sure the nightgown underneath was just as fancy and sure to match. Besides the different night clothes, her normally silky hair looked to be wet this time. Her cheeks were slightly rosy too and Claude frowned.

“…Did you just come from the bath?”

Hilda shrugged, still looking decidedly pouty about being locked out. “Maybe.” She said in a light tone. “A girl’s got to make sure she’s nice and clean, you know.” Hilda uncrossed her arms and shifted ever so slightly to emphasize the way her clothes hugged her curves.

Claude kept his focus on the conversation at hand. “Is that what took you so long?”

Hilda’s lips twitched. Her pout softened into a smile. “Were you waiting?” She asked in a sweet tone that nearly coaxed a vehement “yes” from his throat.

“I believe I asked you first,” Claude chided.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I did. “ Hilda said. She squirmed past him into the room. Claude let her go and closed the door behind them.

Hilda picked her way across the floor, hardly batting an eye at Claude’s book towers. She took off her slippers and happily made herself comfortable on his now mostly cleared bed.

He picked up the last few books that were still scattered across the comforter and went to place them on his desk.

“I was starting to think you’d forgotten about our dear Sinbad and his story.” He remarked casually. That would have thrown his entire plan off track and he’d have to start from scratch again.

“Oh no, I didn’t forget.” She brightened. “I was thinking about it during the meeting this morning,” 

….that explained a lot.

Hilda had the decency to look sheepish. She covered her mouth. “Don’t tell Judith.”

Claude picked up his desk chair and placed it in the center of the room, facing her . “I wouldn’t dream of it. I will however considering telling everyone that you consider taking a bath more important than being on time.” He teased with a mock air of offense.

Hilda scrunched up her face. “If I want to wash my hair I have to take a bath at night. Do you know how long it takes for all of this to dry?”

For emphasis, she gave her still damp hair a toss, it fell into her face but Hilda pretended not to notice.

“...or you could be like any normal person, and use a towel to dry it. Let me guess though, you’d rather someone else do it for you.” Claude countered as he pushed the offending strands out of her face.

Hilda settled her hands in her lap primly, as if she was settling down for tea with him and she wasn't sitting crosslegged on his bed in her pajamas. “Exactly.” She chirped. “Now, you promised to finish that story! And I came all this way, Claude.”

“That short walk between our room does feel like miles sometimes.” Claude replied with a wry smile.

He had meant it as a joke but with the way but Hilda only laughed sweetly. Her bright eyes staring right through him.

He cleared his throat. “Where did I leave off yesterday?”

“Our intrepid hero had barely survived an encounter with a sea monster!” Hilda clasped her hands.

“Right!” He leaned back in his chair and thought. “Sinbad had the shock of his life and clinging to his make shift raft had been washed away…”

How had father told it? It had been so long since Claude had spoken with him face to face…even longer since he’d last listened to him tell a story.

…In Claude’s opinion, he’d always done it best.

He could hear the smooth familiar tenor of his father’s voice if he let his mind wander. It felt as if it was a lifetime ago he had sat there, slumped onto the King’s lap before bed…

Claude sat up suddenly and fixed his eyes onto Hilda.

“…Sinbad was alone on the beach. There was not another soul in sight, just towering tropical trees, as far as his eyes could see…”

**…and in spite of himself, Sinbad collapsed on the sand and lay there for a long time. His entire body ached from being tossed by the waves, and even though he was relived to be alive, he could not help but despair. He was stranded and alone. How was he to ever return home? He lay there on the beach for sometime till he was finally able to compose himself and set off in search of food and water.**

**Sinbad the sailor was a fortunate man, for he found both without much trouble. In a pleasant little grove there was a beautiful spring of water, surrounded by berry bushes. He drank and ate his fill, and when he finally felt well enough, he rose to his feet and began to search for a way off the island.**

**He wandered down the beach and came across of all things, a horse. A beautiful looking mare with a creamy colored coat was tied up and grazing on a patch of green grass. And if the creature was out to pasture, surely someone had to be nearby. Hope stole over Sinbad once more, and he hastened his pace the best he could.**

**Suddenly the horse let out a piercing whinny, seemingly startled by his approach. Sinbad drew back in fear, but then he realized the true cause of the horse’s alarm. Stealing out from the water was a figure that looked to be more beast than man, and it was headed straight for the mare.**

**It paid no mind to the horse’s distress, and snatched up its reigns and began to pull it to the sea. Sinbad watched paralyzed. The strange creature was going to drown the horse.**

****“…there was only one thing he could do, Sinbad-“

Hilda flung a pillow at him and nailed him right in the face. "You promised not to make me cry! If that poor horse dies I’ll never forgive you-“

The rest of the sentence was muffled because Claude threw the pillow right back at her to return the favor.

“I haven’t even told you what happens next! And throwing a pillow counts as an interruption. I told you, if you want me to tell you stories you can’t interrupt.”

Hilda clutched the pillow to her chest and sulked. “I hate this part of the story.” She mumbled. “I think I would have rather died at sea then had my hopes built up that there was someone around and then dashed because some monster decided it wanted to kill a horse.”

“…you know he survives, right?” Claude asked, concern wrinkling his brow. “Remember, Sinbad is telling this story to the other Sinbad. So he gets off the island.”

“I know, but…Claude you promised me you wouldn’t tell a sad story.” She pouted.

“If you had let me finished, you would already know that the horse lives.” Claude retorted.

Hilda perked up. “Oh! Go on then.” She snuggled the pillow close to her chest and waited expectantly for him to continue.

“As I was saying, before you so rudely interrupted,” Claude shot her a mock offended look. Hilda shrugged, unconcerned and unrepentant. Claude had to swallow his laugh.

“Sinbad watched in horror as the creature pulled the horse to the water. Then, thinking quickly, he seized a branch off a tree and chased after it.”

**The creature hissed, but Sinbad swung his branch and beat it till it was forced to give up the reigns and it slunk back into the water. He held firm till it was out of sight and then began to calm down the poor distraught horse.**

**“Stranger!” A man bellowed out. “I must thank you!” He came running down the beach. “I know not who you are, but you have saved our King’s favorite horse from that dastardly creature. We had not seen it in months, so we thought it was safe to leave her to graze. Who are you? Our King will be sure to reward you for your courage.”**

**And so the pair made their way to the capital, where Sinbad recounted his whole tumultuous journey. The King decreed Sinbad had been sent to them by the gods, and his arrival was a prosperous omen. He showered him with rewards and there Sinbad stayed till his health recovered. When he was well, the king filled up a grand ship with treasures for Sinbad to sell on his journey home, and wished him well.**

**And so concluded the wealthy Merchant’s tale.He sailed home, set up his trading enterprise and all was right and led to where the story had began, Sinbad telling his story to the man who shared his name.**

**Yet as he finished recounting this tale to his guest, the wealthy Sinbad had a confession.**

**“I was home, and comfortable. Everything was right with the world and more…yet part of me still hungered for the sea. I knew the time would come when I would set out once more on another voyage. But my friend, I have kept you here long enough today.” He gave the poor man some gold as an apology for keeping him.**

**“…if you have the time, come back tomorrow and I will tell you about my second voyage.”**

He let the sentence hang in the air and to his delight, Hilda’s mouth was agape.

****“…second voyage?” Hilda repeated. “There’s more?”

“…Did you like it?” Claude dodged the question. She nodded rapidly.

“Duh! This beats out any preachy cute animal story any day of the week! And it didn’t make me cry, so that’s a marked improvement over the last one.”

She flopped over onto her side on his bed.

“…are you going to tell me the second part of this story or make me wait again?” Hilda asked shrewdly.

“I have no idea what you mean.” Claude said, trying to feign at least a smidgeon of innocence. “I always thought Sinbad’s story was fun as a kid. The second voyage is more exciting though. Overall, I think I liked it better than the story of the Forty Thieves.”

That got her attention.

“…what’s that one about?” She propped herself up on her elbows.

Claude raised an eyebrow. “…I thought you wanted to hear about Sinbad. I could tell you that one though, if you wanted. But you know, it’s kind of late…” He trailed off.

“It’s not that late.” She replied staunchly.

Claude shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “I finished my letter earlier, but I wanted to look over it. If you wanted to wait for me to finish that, I guess I could tell you another one.” He closed his eyes.

It was bait. He knew it, she almost certainly knew it. It was just a matter if she would take it or not.

He waited.

“…Well. If you wanted, to you know. Tell me another one. I wouldn’t mind.”

Claude shrugged. “If you want.”

“…did Sinbad come back the next day?” Hilda asked.

“Maybe.” Claude opened one eye. “Maybe not.”

It was almost a shame that he couldn’t tell her his favorite story without giving the game up. Almost.

“…so I take it you want to hear the rest then?”

Hilda let herself fall back onto his mattress. “Unfortunately, yes.” She closed her eyes. “Promise you won’t stop in the middle again?”

“Only if you can promise to be here at a reasonable time tomorrow.” 

Hilda snorted. “Oh, you know I can’t do that.” She sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll take another cliff hanger.” 

Claude had been counting on that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took an absolute eternity to do, and probably has to do with the fact that this chapter wasn't in the original draft. So this ended up being a nightmare and a half to do for no reason at all. I'm sensing a pattern here. 
> 
> I decided in the end it was more important for narrative cohesion to let us chill with Claude and get some explanations and see how his "Scheme" works. 
> 
> From here on out things aren't going to be as so rigid with set up, and won't be so back to back because if I did we would be on Sinbad forever and that would be absolutely dull and not at all lead to fun slow burn nonsense.
> 
> Your fun fact for the chapter is that a lot of this was written to the song "The Sound" by the 1975 on repeat.
> 
> Hope you come back around for round three whenever that happens!


End file.
